


they always had each other

by raewastaken (IWriteLove)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fake AH Crew, M/M, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 07:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3720298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWriteLove/pseuds/raewastaken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bad days were bad for them. The worst days nearly broke them everytime. However, for every bad day, no matter how bad they got, the good days were plentiful, and always the best for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	they always had each other

**Author's Note:**

  * For [minipine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minipine/gifts).



> s/o to [my b](http://archiveofourown.org/users/minipine/pseuds/minipine) for giving me this idea more or less. they're totally the inspiration for this. sorry its so short!!

Bad days were bad for them. Days where things cut a bit too close for comfort; a stray bullet that missed Ray's head by a fraction, but grazed his ear, or an explosion that wasn't planned quite right, and went off a bit too soon and way too close to Michael. Those days they came home, their mistakes weighing heavy on their chests and shoulders as Geoff's words spun in their head ("we can't afford mistakes like this, we don't know when one fuck up will turn into our last!"), and their bodies throbbing in pain and exertion, begging for something, anything, to comfort them. It was the days they left their dirty clothes soaking a bit too long in water, too busy curled up together in their boxers in bed, eyes shut even if they weren't sleeping, covers pulled up tight around them, letting the warmth under the duvet and sheets suffocate them as they drowned in the darkness with the sound of car horns and the buzz of Los Santos lull them into sleep. Bad days left them exhausted the moment they stepped into their apartment, left their emotions fried and drained, throats too sore from screaming and yelling commands over their radios and down the streets to speak more than soft "I love you"s under their breaths when the silence got too heavy. Bad days would have been bad on their own.

The worst days nearly break them every time. Those days the too close bullets leave comfort behind, the explosions aren't just too soon, and all hell breaks loose around them. Those days, one of them is drug back to their base apartment that Geoff had rented under his name, too white and sparkling clean for the blood that stained the tiles. It was the days that they clung to each others hands as Caleb quickly made work of their bullet wounds or burns, when all the whiskey in the apartment could only barely dull the pain. Days where they spent hours just laying and sitting in the living room in Geoff's apartment while the burn of alcohol and pain left their senses, before dragging each other home. Those days they kicked their shoes off at the couch, stripped out of their blood soaked, dirty clothes and left them as a pile on the bathroom floor, then started the shower and sat under the hot spray just holding each other and sobbing softly as the water slowly went cold. It was when they realized their own mortality, that as high of a rush they got from the feeling of the wind whistling past their faces as cop sirens faded in the distance, that they were not as invincible as they hoped and wished that they were. 

However, for every bad day, no matter how bad they got, the good days were plentiful, and always the best for them; coming home with blood that wasn't theirs staining their shoes and the ends of their jeans, scorched fabric on their arms or back, bullet reside on their hands. It was the days they walked away from heists and showdowns unscathed and high off the adrenaline pumping in their blood stream like the drugs they helped smuggle around Los Santos from time to time. It was when they kicked off their shoes and soaked their clothes in soapy water, Michael changing into comfortable fleece pajama pants covered in cartoon characters, and Ray slipping into hoodies that smelled like detergent that weren't his, that felt soft and warm. When they curled up on the couch in the apartment they shared in the northern most part of Vinewood, controllers or TV remotes in their hands, shooting shit back and forth while they mowed down fictional enemies or watched Camp Rock for the twentieth time that month (Michael had a soft spot for Disney, Ray had a soft spot for Joe Jonas). These days were easy, just relaxing and letting the energy frying their veins settle to let exhaustion take over their aching limbs and sore muscles where they hit concrete or cars too hard, nothing more than bruises and small scratches. The days that faded from sore night to an early morning, their eyes heavy and body sore, but smiles painted onto their lips and twinkles in their eyes, because despite everything, the good or the bad, they would always savor the quiet "I love you"s as they slowly woke up with gentle kisses that felt like they weren't even there. 

Because, at least through it all, they had each other.

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow me on tumblr!](http://seanspooles.co.vu)


End file.
